Nightwing
by BludhavenKnightA37
Summary: Bludhaven is one of the most troubled locations in the United States. In a city where crime and corruption run rampant, it's going to take a hero to turn the tide. Good thing there's just someone for that job: the vigilante known as "Nightwing". A series following the DC hero Nightwing, set in the Arrow universe (Arrowverse). Please read and review!
1. Pilot

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**The Present Day**_

It was no big surprise: Bludhaven was one of the worst cities in the United States of America. It was poor, dangerous, and corrupt from the top-down. Only the rich got richer, and everyone else… well, they were having a good day if they weren't mugged on the way to work. Crime ruled the streets, and the cops might as well have been criminals. There were a few decent cops, sure, but one good apple doesn't purify a whole bunch- especially not in a city like Bludhaven.

While the cops might be next to useless, there was one thing that criminals feared. For the past five years the rumors had persisted, but there was never any solid evidence. And yet, one by one the criminals of Bludhaven, from the big, blockbuster mobsters to the smallest and pettiest of thugs, began to believe in what the police assured them was nothing more than an urban myth. An urban myth that made them look over their shoulders every time they saw a shadow.

And so it was that one wet night, a gang of thugs gathered at the docks. They were small time- unprofessional local hires, as could be told by their lack of uniformity. Some wore red hoodies, some wore brown leather jackets; some wore jeans, some wore sweat pants. In all cases, however, they carried with them assault rifles. Leading the pack was a balding man in a brown suit.

Marching his band of about twenty, he headed up to the security gate, where a uniformed guard stood on watch, chowing down on some Chinese food. "Evening, Mr. MacGuffin," the security guard greeted the man in the suit.

"Good evening, Mr. Hanlon," Mr. MacGuffin replied. "I'm just bringing my workers to unload some shipments."

"Is the grass whiter on the other side, Mr. MacGuffin?" Mr. Hanlon asked with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile.

"It always is- and the paper's greener on your side," Mr. MacGuffin bantered back.

"I always do like it when that happens. Go on ahead, Mr. MacGuffin- I think your shipment's number is 441984."

"Much obliged." Turning then to his gang, the suited man yelled, "Alright boys, let's go! And don't forget- one screw up, and you don't get paid!" The gang moved into the shipping yard while Mr. Hanlon returned to eating his Chinese food, yawning slightly. Guard duty was truly boring, thought Mr. Hanlon to himself- there was simply no excitement at all from guard duty.

Meanwhile, from a rooftop across the yard, a figure put down the binoculars they had been holding up to view the proceedings below. They smiled.

_**The Past**_

_ "Remember, Robin: your mind is your greatest weapon," a strong voice instructed from the shadows. The young teen in the center of the dimly lit room, hearing the echoing advice, nodded and closed his eyes. "Keep your mind sharp, and your will resolute. With them, you can take care of anything."_

_ "But how do I know that for sure?" the young teen asked, his voice wavering and clearly unsure._

_ "Because we are detectives, and that's how we solve crimes."_

_ Taking these words to heart, Robin took a deep breath. Sharpening his mind, he began to think of where his opponent could strike from, while simultaneously keeping his senses on a constant alert for anything that would give him a clue of where the attack was coming from._

_ Suddenly, a figure leaped from Robin's left. Reacting quickly, he rolled backwards and blocked an incoming elbow, counterattacking with a kick aimed for the figure's head. Seeing this, the figure grabbed onto Robin's leg and promptly threw him onto the ground._

_ As Robin lay on the ground, slightly dazed, the figure reminded him, "Keep your mind sharp. Always be thinking. All the martial arts I teach you and the gadgets you have at your disposal will mean nothing if you lose focus for even a millisecond and stop thinking." Having said thus, he offered the young teen a hand. Taking it, Robin was helped back onto his feet. "You can do better- I know you can. Now, let's do it again."_

_ Nodding, Robin closed his eyes as the figure returned to the shadows. He simply stood in the center, keeping his mind and his senses in tune. His focus was sharpened- nothing distracted him, not even his breathing. The only things that mattered were his senses to pick up clues, and his mind to think up strategies-_

_ The figure leaped. Robin opened his eyes._

_**The Present**_

"We're almost done, boss!" one of the thugs announced to Mr. MacGuffin. Two trucks, already at the docks, were almost filled with the contents of crate 441984, and most of the thugs were smiling at how easy the job was.

"Good! Then hurry it up and let's get out of here- my wife's waiting for me with a steak at home, and I don't want to miss it," Mr. MacGuffin hollered.

Suddenly, a laugh echoed from a dark corner of the loading area- a confident laugh, something that sent shivers down the thugs' spines. Just as this was happening, some things flew through the air and punctured the tires of the trucks.

"Wha- What was that!?" Mr. MacGuffin asked, surprised. "Somebody check out that laugh! Someone else, check those tires!"

Nodding, one of the thugs cautiously inched towards the dark corner, while another checked on the tires. He confirmed that all the tires were flat, but he confirmed something else: what had punctured the tires were metallic, and in the shape of a bird's wing.

"BOSS!" the thug yelled. "We've got trouble!"

"What are you talking about?" Mr. MacGuffin demanded.

"Oh, nothing. Just me!" a new voice cockily responded. Falling from above the group of nineteen, he threw some balls, and upon making contact with the ground, smoke was released from them, quickly engulfing the area and making the thugs cough and retch. While the thugs tried to get a hold of themselves, the newcomer quickly went to work: he took out what looked like two batons from his back and, moving swiftly from one thug to another, quickly took them down.

Meanwhile, the one that had gone to check on the laugh simply stood rooted to his spot, paralyzed by the suddenness of the turn of events. He gripped onto his assault rifle for dear life- after all, his life might actually depend on it.

Within the smoke cloud, the newcomer had easily taken down the inexperienced thugs. Moving on to Mr. MacGuffin, the newcomer leapt at the suited man, knocking aside the handgun he brought with him. "Y'know, I think the cops are gonna love these photos I took of you guys moving this shipment," he taunted, taking out a few pictures.

"Who are you?" Mr. MacGuffin asked with a panic in his voice.

Instead of responding, the newcomer just smiled, before knocking him out with a single punch. As Mr. MacGuffin went down, he tied up the suited man with some rope from his gauntlet, and then placed the photos in his jacket pocket. By this time he noticed that the smoke was dissipating and, remembering that there was still one more thug, ran up to a crate and leapt up, swiftly reaching the top and moving to a new position.

Once the smoke had dissipated, the thug inched forward, his assault rifle pointed, his finger on the trigger. To his horror, everyone was down and out cold. "Hey Vinnie! Joe! Aldo!" the thug asked. "Guys, get up! What the f-"

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you not to curse?" the newcomer asked, leaping from the sky and tossing another metallic wing. It made contact with the thug's hand and, in pain, the thug dropped his assault rifle. Taking advantage of this situation, the newcomer rolled forward and quickly delivered an uppercut to the thug's glass jaw. The thug's head was thrown back and he was knocked down on the ground- out cold.

Taking a look at his handiwork, the newcomer sighed and then said to himself, "Another night, another drug shipment in the 'haven foiled. Now for my _favorite_ part: clean up."

-X-

Five squad cars rolled into the docks, sirens blazing. The responding officers found Mr. MacGuffin and his thugs all tied up, with photos of their illicit activities in Mr. MacGuffin's pocket.

As the BPD's Crime Scene Unit went about their work processing the scene, a large man exited his plain car. He wore the uniform of the BPD, but had the air of someone in charge. Noticing a man with a long coat smoking a cigarette nearby, he barked, "Soames! What the hell happened here?"

"Just a drug shipment stopped," Soames nonchalantly replied. "It was _him_ too- and now we have proof."

"Proof?" the man asked.

Soames jerked his head in the direction of Mr. Hanlon, who was giving his testimony to a uniformed officer.

"Is that so? Well, I'm not gonna have masks in _my_ city. Gotham, Starling, Central- they can do whatever the hell they want. But I'll be _damned_ if I have masks in _my_ city!" the man hollered. "Soames! Tomorrow, we're forming the task force!"

As the man marched back to his unmarked car, Soames simply kept smoking his cigarette. "Guess it's time then…" he muttered to himself.

-X-

The following day, the Bludhaven Police Department set up a press conference. Speaking from a podium to a house packed with reporters, Chief Delmore Redhorn announced with a strict expression, "Citizens of Bludhaven: last night, the Bludhaven Police Department has confirmed the presence of a very dangerous individual. For the past five years, he has evaded identification, despite the best and most vigilant efforts of our department, but now we have identified the criminal the department has called 'Nightwing'.

"In response to this, I, Chief Redhorn, am hereby creating the anti-Nightwing task force to apprehend this menace before he becomes a bigger danger to this city. Citizens, if you see this figure, please do not engage him- call the police and leave the area. I swear to you, we will capture this criminal!"

As he walked away from the podium, the press in a tumult over the breaking news story, he muttered to himself, "I'm gonna take down this mask- alive or dead."

-X-

From his small apartment building, Dick Grayson put down the bowl of cereal he was eating and turned off his TV. "Criminal? I mean, I guess what I do is _technically_ against the law, but criminal? C'mon… don't I at least qualify as a vigilante?"

Suddenly, his cell phone began ringing. Seeing the caller ID, he cheerily answered, "Hey Babs!"

"Dick? What have you gotten yourself into now?" a female voice exasperatedly asked from the other end of the line.

"Nothing I can't handle, though apparently I'm the BPD's enemy now. Guess there aren't any Jim Gordons in the BPD."

"Will you need help?"

"I'll be fine, Barb," he assured her.

"You better be, former Boy Wonder," she teased. "You wouldn't want me coming down there and kicking your ass, would you?"

"Like you could!" he laughed.

"You know I could!" she answered.

"Yeah, you've got a point… Hey, I gotta go- it's almost time for my shift. I'll see you later?"

"See you later, Dick." With that, the call was ended, and Dick Grayson placed the phone on his counter top. He rushed to his room and changed out of his PJs and into a casual pair of everyday clothes. Grabbing his stuff, he ran out of the room and down the stairs, before exiting the building and running out to the sidewalks.

"I guess this is where it begins," he muttered to himself. "The beginning of Nightwing."

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Hey everyone! BKA37 here. I hope you enjoyed the Pilot episode for **Nightwing**. Please feel free to leave me feedback on how I can improve this series- kinda hard to judge based off of one episode, but I'll be making this plea constantly, so hey, more material to critique soon! I know this was pretty surface level, but just like Captain Amell has said before, the goal is to make sure that Episode 2 is better than Episode 1, and Episode 3 is better than Episode 2, and so on and so forth. With that in mind, I'll see everyone next week, Thursday, with Episode 2 of **Nightwing**. Until then, stay awesome, everyone!_


	2. Boy Wonder

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**-The Present-**_

No one ever screams "Help!" in Bludhaven. Cries of distress aren't anything shocking, sudden, or new. It's a sad fact of living in the Bloody Haven: something WILL happen to you throughout the day, and you'd be the luckiest person in the world if it was good news.

Of course, inevitability wasn't the only reason there's never a cry for help. Hopelessness added to that too. With a city so messed up, people had lost all sense of "Hope". The few good men and women who lived there sure tried to change things, but there's only so much so few can do in the light of the law to give people hope.

Which was why sometimes, the best way to give hope is to operate in the shadows of the law.

Ever since news that the "criminal" known as "Nightwing" was confirmed by the BPD, Dick had been doing everything in his power to prove he wasn't a villain. He busted gangs and disrupted dealers. He stopped muggings and prevented rapes. One time, he rescued a cat from a tree for an old lady. She was very grateful, but then she told him he was nine months too early for Halloween.

It had been a rough couple of weeks… but somehow, people began to believe in hope again.

Meanwhile, in the Zee Moores…

"Dammit Tad, you little shit!" a man drunkenly bellowed. Sitting in his armchair with nothing on but a pair of underwear, he crushed the beer can in his hand and threw it on the floor, where a pile of empty beer cans lay. His intoxicated fury was focused on a young man of about sixteen, with blonde hair and a medium build. He was dressed in a hoodie and jeans with a few holes, as well as holding a few comic books in his hand. "What're you doing with that shit in your hands!?"

"Nothing," the young man responded coolly. He had learned long ago that there was no reasoning with his old bastard of a father when he was drunk- which was most of the time. "I'm going to my room."

Tad made to go for his room when the old man suddenly lunged at him. Caught by surprise, Tad was tackled to the floor, his head meeting the old man's fist right after hitting the wooden floorboards.

"You'll!" his father screamed. "Never!" Bam. "Amount!" Pow. "To!" Biff. "ANYTHING!" his father roared.

Blood began to form in Tad's mouth as his face stung. His father spit in his face. "Useless trash," he commented, before getting off of the young man and stumbling to the kitchen.

Tad picked himself up and quickly ran into his room. He knew that he couldn't just lie there- he'd receive a second beating if he did. Instead, he did what he always did: shut himself up in his room. Making sure the door was double bolted, Tad flipped two wall switches, turning on a slowly revolving fan and an overhead light.

The light was enough to illuminate the ramshackle room, yet weak enough that it still left a few dark shadows in the corners. The walls were covered in a frayed, green wallpaper. Tucked into a corner was a mattress covered in sauce stains, with a beaten pillow and a small sheet that was supposed to be a blanket haphazardly on it. To the side, by the window and fire escape, was a wooden desk and a lamp. The two predominant features of the room, however, where the massive amounts of comic books that were both piled high on the desk and strewn about the floor, as well as the newspaper articles that were taped to the wallpaper above his mattress.

"He's wrong," Tad muttered to himself. "I'm not going to be worthless. I'm going to be something." He walked past his desk, depositing the comic books in his hands on the top of a pile to read further later on. Having done so, he stepped on top of his mattress and stared at the newspaper clippings. All of them had to do with sightings about Bludhaven's newest news story: Nightwing.

"I'm going to be a hero… just like you, Nightwing," he vowed.

-X-

Later that night, Tad used the fire escape, descending down the stairs and landing on the alley's cold pavement. He was dressed now in a green hoodie and camouflage pattern cargo pants, as well as dark brown combat boots and black fingerless gloves. Putting the hood above his head, he began walking into his neighborhood. He had no particular direction in mind- just that he would keep on going until something happened.

Walking around the Zee Moores, he was able to observe how terrible its condition was. Bludhaven was a poor city, yes, but the Zee Moores was the butt of the leper. Nothing but low housing tenements in shambles, if not flat out abandoned buildings. The Zee Moores could be gang territory, except no one wanted the Zee Moores. Only the Chief of the Underworld could want the Zee Moores to rule Bludhaven contiguously- and no one's stepped up in the power vacuum since the last one mysteriously disappeared.

After some time, Tad came across three thugs ganging up on one man. Excited at the prospect of doing something, he rushed into the fight. With a yell, he lunged at one of the thugs, taking him down and punching him until the others picked him up and threw him off of the thug.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the first thug demanded, spitting out some blood.

Tad smirked. The adrenaline rush… it was exciting. He remembered the vow he made to his hero- of how he was going to be a hero just like him. Maybe this could be the start. His start.

"Me? I'm… Nite-Wing," he bragged.

"Knightwing?" the second thug repeated. "Hey Maurice… maybe we shouldn't mess with this guy."

"Man, would you look at him!?" the first thug angrily spat. "This is just some freak wannabe. And soon," he continued, pulling out a switch blade. "He's gonna be a dead wannabe."

"Well then, come get it, boys," Tad taunted. Infuriated, the first thug rushed at Tad. He was able to dodge the blade's first swipe, but was caught in the forearm by a second slash, the blade drawing blood. Scowling, Tad countered by throwing a fist at the thug with all his might. Off balance from the previous slash, the thug was caught by the punch, sending him on the ground.

Realizing they needed to help him out, the other two thugs ganged up on Tad. It became a messy brawl- fists flew, blows led to bruises, and it was a real scrapper. But in the end, Tad came up the victor- bloody, bruised, and out of breath, but the victor.

Despite his physical exertions, a feeling filled him- a feeling unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was more than mere excitement, or an adrenaline rush- it was a purpose, a fire. Then and there, he reaffirmed what he already knew. He would be a hero just like Nightwing.

Tad delivered a kick to each of the knocked-out thugs for good measure, before putting his hood back on and continuing on his way. He had a cut to take care of and some bruises he'd feel in the morning, but he had more important business to take care of.

-X-

"Hey Dick, did you hear about what happened in Central City a few days ago?" a voice said over the speakers of Dick Grayson's phone. "About Hartley Rathaway causing that huge mess?"

"Oh, you mean Pied Piper?" Dick replied nonchalantly as he took a spoonful of cereal. Wearing only a pair of sweatpants, he had finished working out a few minutes prior, and was now cooling down. Perched on a kitchen chair, he balanced a bowl of cereal on his right thigh, a glass of apple juice on his left, and was reading from the newspaper for any signs of trouble.

"Pied Piper?" the voice asked.

"Yeah. Cisco told me that was his name."

"But it's Hartley Rathaway-"

"I dunno Barb. I like 'Pied Piper' better- it kinda suits him. I mean, 'Hartley Rathaway' just sounds so… underwhelming. But 'Pied Piper' just sounds really whelming. Do you know what I mean?"

"Unfortunately, I do," Barb laughed.

"Anyway, any news about Oliver Queen? Has he returned from his fight with Ra's yet?" Dick asked with a tone of concern in his voice.

"Not yet- he's still off the grid," Barb solemnly confirmed.

"Well, I sinceriously hope he gets back soon. Starling's falling to pieces without him, and I don't know if Roy Harper and the rest of the team will be enough to stop them from descending into madness again."

"Will you go and help them?" Barb inquired.

Dick thought about it for a minute, then answered, "I can't. Starling has enough heroes protecting it- it's their turf. I'm all Bludhaven's got, Barb."

"That's not true," Barb quickly interjected.

"What do you mean?" Dick asked, confused.

"Well, it's also got me. I'm here for you, Dick, and so is the rest of the Network. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do," Dick responded, smiling.

"Hey! There's that kid that calls himself 'Knightwing'!" a voice bellowed from outside Dick's apartment. Suddenly concerned, he set on the table his bowl of cereal and glass of juice, and quickly leapt towards the window to see the commotion. Outside, there was a large gang of thugs encircling a young man dressed in a green hoodie and camo cargo pants.

"Yeah, I'm Nite-Wing!" the teen cockily responded. "So what? You wussies going to take me on?"

_Who is this kid?_ Dick thought to himself. _And why is he using my name? Whoever he is, he's gonna get himself killed if they think he's me. I better do something._

"Everything alright, Dick?" Barb asked, worried.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Dick reassured her. "I just gotta go- duty calls. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Alright. Stay safe, former Boy Wonder."

"As long as you do, professor."

Ending the conversation, Dick quickly dashed to his room and suited up.

-X-

"You must think like you're some kind of invincible, Kick-Ass superhero, don't you punk?" a thug spat at Tad. "But my friends and I- we're gonna show you just what you really are: a punk-ass worthless piece of trash."

The words rang in Tad's head. His father's image came to mind. Wrath coursed through Tad's veins. "I'll make you eat those words. Through a straw!" Tad swore, rushing at the thug. Tad got the first punch in, but was quickly greeted by ten fists pummeling him from all sides. Suddenly, he was down, and feet trampled him as the bruises from his previous fight were compounded by these new bruises he was receiving. Blood came rushing up his throat, threatening to choke him. Pain unlike Tad had ever felt surged through his body, and yet Tad kept resisting. He got up and started trying to fight back, landing a few blows here and there. But the gang of thugs was too much for him, and down he went once more.

After a few more blows, one of the gang suggested, "Hey man, let's just kill the punk!"

"Good idea," the first thug agreed. Pulling a glock from behind his back, he aimed the gun right at Tad's temple in an executioner's style, as the other members backed off, not wanting any of the blood to fall on their clothes. Tad did nothing but stare right at the barrel of the gun. "I don't care that the cops didn't arrest you- I care that they'll know I killed that masked freak 'Knightwing.'"

"Somebody say my name?" a voice taunted from above them. A wing flew through the air and embedded itself in the thug's hand, forcing him to drop the glock. Suddenly, a dark figure dropped from the sky and broke his fall by landing on the thug who would've executed Tad. Facing the rest of the gang with a smile, he took out two eskrima sticks from his back, and proceeded to attack them. They had the numerical advantage, but the figure had the clear superiority in speed, agility, and martial prowess, bouncing from one thug to the next with grace and ferocity, taking them down before they could even react. It was like he was a character in a video game, racking up combo hits and evading any blows that would break his multiplier.

Tad saw all this and was amazed. In no time at all, the figure had taken down the entire gang of thugs. In awe, he asked, "Are you… Nightwing?"

"Yeah, I am," he responded. The smiling leaving his face, however, he asked, "Why'd you say you were me?"

"Please, let me help you!" Tad answered instead. "My name's Thaddeus Ryerstad- er, Tad. I've wanted to be a hero just like you. So please, let me join you!"

Nightwing looked straight into Tad's eyes. In them he could see a fire and a defiance.

_So much like I was… back then,_ Dick thought to himself. _Back at the beginning._

_**-The Past-**_

_ It had been weeks. Weeks since the accident. Weeks since the funeral. Weeks since Haly's Circus left town, leaving Dick at the Wayne Care Center. And still there were no answers about his parents' deaths. He couldn't just stand around, doing nothing- he had to take action._

_ And so at night, Dick left the Wayne Care Center. Walking about Gotham's streets, he tried to piece together what exactly happened that night. It took a while, but one by one, Dick began to find answers. Eventually, Dick got a name: Tony Zucco._

_ With something solid, he began to ask around the center and the neighborhood. Everyone wanted to avoid the name, like it was some unspeakable curse. But he wouldn't be denied, and eventually, he got an answer: a mob boss of Gotham._

_ Dick now knew what he was up against. He should report it to the GCPD and just let them take care of things. But he had too much rage and too much hate for Tony Zucco to just let the GCPD take care of him on their own. They were a corrupt force anyway- what good would they do? No, he had to do something. And that's when he got a visit._

_ Late one night, as Dick lay on his bed in the care center, the young teen sensed that someone was perched on his window- a window he swore was closed. Turning his head, he found a dark figure there. "You're going after Tony Zucco," the figure stated._

_ Standing up, Dick defiantly responded, "Yes, I am."_

_ "That's a bad idea," the figure scolded. "Tony Zucco is one of the most powerful mob bosses in Gotham, with men armed to the teeth. You're a young teen with no combat experience. At all. You might be capable of doing a quadruple backflip, but that's not going to be enough to stop you from getting killed."_

_ "But I… I've still got to do something!" Dick angrily retorted. "This man had my parents killed, and I don't even know why! Haven't you ever lost someone?"_

_ The figure was silent for a time. Silently, he answered, "Yes."_

_ "Then you know how it feels! So I need to stop him! If you don't like me going out there… then please help me."_

_ Dick maintained his eye contact with the figure. He didn't know what went through the figure's mind- was it a yes? Or a no?_

_ Eventually, the figure opened his mouth to speak._

_**-The Present-**_

"… Alright. I'll let you help me," Nightwing said to Tad.

Not believing the words that just came out of his hero's mouth, Tad beamed and yelled, "Yes! Thank you, Nightwing!"

"I'll contact you when it's time," Nightwing sternly commented.

"Time?" Tad asked.

"For training," Nightwing smiled. Thus said, he took something from his gauntlet and aimed at the sky. A hook shot out and, just like that, Nightwing had ascended into darkness.

Still beaming, Tad muttered to himself, "Finally! I'll get to be a real hero!" He began jogging towards his home, glorious thoughts running through his mind. One scene followed the next: chasing down bad guys, beating down criminals to death, putting an end to his father's abuse- permanently. All in a hero's work.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Hey everyone! BKA37 here! Looks like there might be some trouble brewing for Nightwing... does he know what he just got himself into? Find out in next week's episode! Please feel free to leave me some feedback, and I'll leave you with these two questions: 1) How was the length of this? Was it too long? Too short? Goldilocks right? Would you like it longer? Shorter? Or is this fine? and 2) Were you underwhelmed, overwhelmed, or just whelmed by this week's The Flash and Arrow? Are you hopoyful for next week's episodes?_

_Anyway, until next week, stay awesome, everyone!_


	3. Boy Blunder

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**-The Glades, Present Day-**_

On the main street of the Glades, two factions had gathered. Brickwell and his armed forces looked menacing on one end- Arsenal, Black Canary, and the residents of the Glades stood defiant on the other. Upon Brickwell's urging, his armed men rushed at the residents, and an all-out brawl ensued.

"Dumbasses," commented Dick into his comlink. He was suited up as Nightwing, and was on a hair trigger.

"What do you mean?" Barbara asked from the other end of the line.

"Brick's men have semi-auto rifles. You'd think they'd use them but noooo… Actually, it reminds me of this one movie I saw a few years ago. It was a force of cops going up against a massive mercenary legion. The legion also had semi-autos, and they used them for all of five seconds before turning it into an all-out brawl. Honestly, I couldn't understand what the leaders of the legion and the cops were saying- it sounded like they had laryngitis and were gargling marbles."

"Are you gonna jump in?"

"It looks like they have this for now, though if it escalates-"

"It's ending right now," a new voice said from behind Nightwing. Turning around quickly, Nightwing prepared for an attack, only to find a familiar man in a green hood.

"Back from the dead!" Nightwing greeted the Arrow.

"Just about," he replied.

"Oliver's back?" Barbara interjected.

"Yup, which means it's time for me to go," Nightwing responded. "Starling's got its hero back, and I need to return to Bludhaven."

As the Arrow began preparing his bow, he looked at the chaotic scene unfolding before him. On the street, Black Canary was holding someone in her arms, and it seemed like Brick had escaped.

"So much has happened since I left..." he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, but your team held down the fort," Nightwing reassured him.

"What should I tell the City? My sister?"

"Tell the City you won't fail them again. And tell your sister… well, why don't you tell her you were in Bludhaven all this time?" Nightwing suggested.

"That easy?" The Arrow asked, stone-faced.

"You can tell her you were in jail again. It's not like you don't have a record of that, party boy," Nightwing teased.

"Maybe… Anyway, I've got to go." And with that, he let loose an emerald arrow. It flew through the air, past the blood and the sweat, the pain and the bruises, and embedded itself into a body nearby Arsenal. Seeing the arrow, he looked for its source as the man in the green hood descended to quell the scene.

"Cool," Nightwing responded with a smile. He took off, taking the rooftop express to a motorcycle near the outskirts of the glades. Once he had arrived at his motorcycle, he took off for a jet just outside the city limits. "Best part of being a part of the Family- all the toys," Nightwing grinned. Getting on the jet, he set off for home: Bludhaven.

-X-

_**-Gotham, The Past-**_

_ "Argh!" the angry teen grunted. Taking both eskrima sticks in hand, he brought them downwards on the figure, who easily blocked them._

_ "Control yourself, Dick!" the figure admonished him._

_ "You say use my rage, right?" Dick challenged. "So I'm gonna use it, and make sure that sonofa-"_

_ Acting swiftly, the figure swept Dick's leg from under him, before taking an eskrima stick and pinning Dick by his neck._

_ "That anger will get you killed," the figure coldly stated. Getting up, he grabbed a towel from a man watching the duel. "You're not ready."_

-X-

_**-Bludhaven, The Present-**_

A young woman walked down the street in the Zee Moores, chewing on an ordinary chocolate bar. For once, the neighborhood was quiet, and this unassuming young woman enjoyed her moonlit walk, and the delicious slice of heaven in her hand. When she had finished the chocolate bar, she immediately went to throw the wrapper away. However, finding that there were no trash cans nearby, she simply let it slip from her hand.

"Scum," a voice warned, threateningly. The young woman turned around to find a figure in a green hood, camo cargo pants, combat boots, and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a crowbar with various blood stains already splattered on it.

"W-what are you talking about?" the young woman asked, frightened.

"A hero can't allow your wrongdoing," Tad explained. "I'm going to have to teach you the right way."

"L-let it go!" the young woman pleaded as Tad advanced on her. "It was just a small wrapper! I won't litter again!"

"Too late," Tad grinned sadistically as he raised the crowbar. Knowing that he couldn't be reasoned with, the young woman began to run, but Tad was faster and, with crowbar in hand, brought it down on the young woman.

There was no one around. No one could hear her screams- her pleading, or cries for help. No one would see the tears that fell from her eyes, or the blood that flew out of her mouth. There was no one, save for the villainous litterer, and the heroic teacher.

Brutality.

When he had finished, Tad patted the young woman on the head, as she slowly drifted into unconsciousness. "Now, be good, ok?" he innocently reminded her. Chuckling to himself, he walked away, as the woman, before finding solace in the warm embrace of the unconscious, sobbed.

"I wonder if there are any more evil-doers nearby?" Tad wondered to himself.

-X-

_This morning's top news: a brutal death in the Zee Moores. Locals are demanding answers in the death of Hannah Grey, a 20 year old native of the Zee Moores. According to her family, she was a student at Gotham University who was in town to celebrate her mother's birthday. The Bludhaven Police Department has assured the local residents that they are investigating the case- no word yet on any leads._

Dick turned off the TV, equal parts sad and disgusted. Having lost his appetite for his breakfast, he instead moved to his room to change into the clothes he'd need for his day shift at the bar.

_I… I could've stopped this,_ he thought to himself. _If only I were here… If only I were on patrol… If only_-

An alarm went off on his phone, reminding him of how little time he had left to make it to the bar. Shaking off the news, he finished getting ready and left his apartment for his day job.

-X-

That night, Tad was waiting around for Nightwing to appear. It was the alley where they had first met, and he hoped that if he waited around long enough, his hero would arrive. Tad wanted training- to have the skills to defeat large clumps of thugs like Nightwing had last week. Of course, it wasn't like he was incompetent- his regular dispensation of justice over the past week proved that point clearly. But those were all weaklings, and one on one battles. He craved the power to take on the biggest bullies- he was thirsty for their blood.

"What're you doing here, kid?" a voice asked from above. Tad looked up to find Nightwing descend on the scene.

"I was waiting for you. I figured you'd train me so that I could help you," Tad answered.

"I said I'd let you _help_ me. I never said anything about training," Nightwing replied.

"But can't I best help you by going out and fighting with you?" Tad questioned.

A scene flashed through Nightwing's mind. Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice. "… No. You can help me by giving me information," Nightwing said, resolute.

"Information? Like what?"

"Like for example, who's been responsible for the increase in deaths in the Zee Moores. They've increased dramatically over the past week. I want to know who's behind this. Think you can ask around, find something out?"

"Sure, I can," Tad replied nonchalantly. "But I thought…"

"You thought what?" Nightwing asked.

"I thought you'd train me so that I could be a hero like you."

Nightwing was silent for a few moments, choosing the right words. When he had chosen them, he answered, "Maybe in the future. But not right now. For now, Tad, I need you to get me that information."

"I'm on it!" Tad enthusiastically replied.

"Good. I'll see you around, kid," Nightwing assured him. Just like that first night, he ascended to the sky, leaving Tad on the ground to contemplate.

-X-

Having left the scene, Nightwing took the rooftops to the Zee Moores. Sticking to the shadows offered by the neighborhood's poor lighting, he pulled out a map on his phone. Not only did the map show the entire neighborhood, but it also had various red dots- the locations of the crime scenes where the victim's bodies were found.

_We are detectives, son._ The words rang in Nightwing's head, and with a steely determination, he set out to investigate the crime scenes.

_By now, the BPD have already processed most of the crime scenes, _Nightwing thought to himself. _That means I'll have to pay them a visit later… then again, maybe Barb will be able to pull off some magic and find out what the police have gathered. Actually…_

En route to one of the crime scenes, Nightwing pressed a button near his ear, and his comlink activated, connecting him directly to Barbara Gordon. "Hey Babs," he greeted as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

"Hey Dick," she replied.

"Think you could do me a favor?"

"Depends. What is it?"

"Could you hack into the BPD's database and see if you can find anything about the recent deaths in the Zee Moores here?"

"I'm offended you're questioning my ability," she sarcastically replied, teasing Dick. "That's like asking if you could flirt with a woman."

"Are you questioning my game, Barb?" Dick smiled as he asked.

"Are you questioning mine? I'm not called 'Oracle' because of how good I look."

"Could've fooled me- you do look beautiful, Barb."

Though he couldn't see it, Barbara blushed. "Getting off topic, Nightwing. Why do you want me to hack into the BPD's database?"

"Like I said, it's the recent deaths here in the Zee Moores. They've spiked over the past week, and that's worried me. I need to find out what's going on, and if I can find any clues that'll point me in the right direction."

"Fair enough. Want me to call Tim to help you out?"

"Nah, I've got this. Tim's the better detective, but I should be fine on my own. I just need to get some clues."

"Well, I'll contact you when I've got something for you. Good luck, Dick."

"Talk to you later, Barb." Dick pressed on the comlink again as he arrived at the scene of Hannah Grey's death.

_I'm a detective. Time to get to work._

-X-

It had been a long night- good thing he had the next day off. After he had finished combing every last nook and cranny of the multiple crime scenes, Nightwing retreated to his apartment to go over the few clues he had found over in his mind. Shortly after he had returned, Barbara had contacted him and related the autopsy reports of the victims- how they died of brutal blunt force trauma, probably caused by something like a crow bar. Hearing the weapon's mention, Dick's mind flashed back to a memory he'd rather forget.

_The attacks were all over the Zee Moores, and yet… and yet there's this higher concentration on this street. All the victims were brutally bludgeoned to death with a crowbar, but the severity of their beatings increased over time… There don't seem to be any identifying marks left behind, nor are there any witnesses who will testify…_

_ Aren't any? Or won't testify?_

He'd been awake for about a day and a half now- but so what? Dick put on a jacket and left the apartment.

-X-

_**-Gotham, The Past-**_

_ Within a large cave, two figures leapt from pole to pole. Thanks to Dick's acrobatic background, he was able to keep up with the man he was competing against. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he upped the ante and beat the man to the finish line, doing a quadruple flip before landing on his toes._

_ "Now you're just showing off," the figure smirked, teasing the teen._

_ "I'm an acrobat- what'd you expect?" Dick bantered back._

_ "You've been doing well, keeping yourself in check," the figure noted. "You've grown in your abilities as well."_

_ "Does that mean…?"_

_ "Suit up. We're tracking down a lead. Tonight… we might have a way of finding Tony Zucco."_

_ Internally, Dick smiled a devilish grin. "Perfect."_

-X-

_**-The Zee Moores, The Present-**_

"Thank you so much," Dick said to an old woman. Walking down her front steps, the smile was wiped away from his face as the revelation of the Zee Moore's killer appeared in his mind.

_Green hoodie… combat boots… camo cargo shorts… and a crowbar… Details too distinct to be anyone else. I don't know why all these witnesses didn't tell the BPD this information, but with this, I can narrow down my list of suspects. And yet… I don't want to believe it._

-X-

Walking through the front door, Tad put down his hood and placed the crowbar in his back pocket, covering it up with his hoodie. As per usual, he could see that his mother was nowhere to be found, and his father was drunk blind.

"Where the hell have you been, you worthless piece of shit?" Tad's father asked.

"Just around," Tad coldly replied.

Unexpectedly, Tad's father got up and staggered towards Tad. Curious as to what would happen, Tad stood his ground. He waited until his father was standing somewhat straight in front of him.

"Hey Tad," his father slurred.

"What're you doing, Pops-"

A fist flew through the air and, catching Tad off guard, knocked him on the ground.

"DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR LIFE!" his father bellowed, before walking out the door, muttering, "I need more whiskey…"

For a moment, Tad just lay there. Then, he felt the fire rise within him. His father had done enough- it was time that a villain like him learned his lesson. And the hero, Nite-Wing, would be just the one to teach him that lesson.

"He'll know justice…" Tad muttered. A darkness had fallen over his eyes, and he put on his hood before taking out the crowbar behind his back. "The justice… of HELL!" Kicking the door open, Tad rushed out of his apartment to catch up with his father.

-X-

It had taken him only a few moments, but Nightwing was now on the prowl, headed for Tad's home in the Zee Moores. It had taken some digging up, but he finally found some records that confirmed his fears- that the street where the casualties were the highest number was, in fact, his home street. Nightwing prepared himself for the worst, but he still didn't want to believe what was almost certainly fact. He didn't want to believe that the young man who held so much fire in him- the same young man that reminded him of himself all those years ago- was the killer responsible for all those deaths.

Finally he alighted on a rooftop perch where, spying down on the scene, he found two figures. One was a clearly drunken man, staggering down the street in a wife-beater and shorts, while the other one was Tad. In his hand was a crowbar.

He knew he needed to focus on Tad, but his eyes were mesmerized by the crowbar. It looked exactly like… like _that _crowbar. And suddenly, the ghosts of his past returned.

While Nightwing was pre-occupied with his nightmare, Tad yelled, "You scum!"

Turning around, Tad's father demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson. Because I'm the justice that will beat scum like you dead!" Thus saying, he rushed on the intoxicated man, the crowbar raised high. He brought it down on the drunken man, knocking him on the ground, and as he got on top of his father, Tad raised his crowbar high for a deathblow.

The memory faded as quickly as it had come, but it was enough to distract Nightwing from the first blow. Seeing that Tad was about to make a mistake, Nightwing leapt from his rooftop perch, yelling, "Stop!"

As Nightwing's words rang out through the night air, Tad stopped just short of delivering his deathblow as he took a look at his hero. "Nightwing? What're you doing here?"

"I figured out who was the Zee Moore's killer, and I caught him in the act," Nightwing declared. "Now, give yourself up, Tad."

Tad was silent for a few seconds. "Do you know what this man is? He's scum!" grabbing him by the low collar, Tad showed him off to Nightwing, before continuing, "Every DAY of my life, this man has beaten me! He deserves to be punished! I deserve justice!"

"And he'll get it!" Nightwing answered. "But not like this! Please Tad… Don't do it. There's been enough."

Tad raised the crowbar once more. Nightwing prepared a Wing-Ding. A memory superimposed itself on the scene.

-X-

_**-Gotham, The Past-**_

_ Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice._

_ Dick and his mentor had raided the warehouse- one of Tony Zucco's smuggling operations. They easily took out the armed guards, though Dick did have some trouble. It was his first day out on the field, after all._

_ When the bullets ceased flying, Dick was on top of one of Zucco's lieutenants. A knife that was nearby was now in his hand, held high in the air, ready to strike._

_ "Where is Zucco!?" Dick demanded._

_ "Control yourself…" the figure warned._

_ "Where is he!?" Dick demanded once more._

_ "Go fuck yourself," the man spat._

_ Fire burned within Dick. Wrath coursed through his veins. Blinded by hate, he gripped the knife even tighter._

_ "Control yourself!" the figure warned again._

_ "I'll kill you!" Dick swore._

_ "You don't have the guts," the man laughed._

_ He couldn't restrain himself any more. He had to do something. He had to strike. He had to-_

_ The knife began to fly down, its edge seeking blood, seeking to bury itself in bone. Before the point could pierce skin, however, Dick's arm was stopped by the figure._

_ "Control yourself, Dick," the figure calmly commented._

_ "But I… But I…!" Dick protested._

_ "You ARE better than him. Don't do this. Don't make this mistake."_

_ The figure let go of his arm, the point of the blade still hovering directly above the lieutenant's neck._

_ Bodies strewn about the floor. A man held by the edge of a knife. A choice._

-X-

_**-The Zee Moores, The Present-**_

"You ARE better than him. Don't do this. Don't make this mistake. Please, Tad," Nightwing pleaded.

Tad was silent as he contemplated this choice. He lowered his arm, as a darkness fell over his eyes. Nightwing let out a sigh of relief.

"You're making the right choice, T-"

"I'm not Tad," the younger man responded. Smiling sadistically, he looked up at Nightwing and replied, "My name is Nite-Wing. And I'm a hero."

Moving quickly, Nite-Wing raised his arm again to swipe at his father. Acting on instinct, Nightwing launched a Wing-Ding. The bird's metallic wing cut through the air, embedding itself into Tad's arm. Though he groaned in pain, he continued his swinging path, and the crowbar landed on his father's temple. Nite-Wing placed as much force as he could behind his swing, breaking skin and fracturing bone.

"No!" Nightwing yelled, rushing at Nite-Wing. He took out his eskrima sticks, but the latter began running away, laughing as he did so.

"I'm a real hero, Nightwing! I'll prove it to you next time!" Nite-Wing vowed. As he took off for the night, Nightwing had to stop to check up on Nite-Wing's father.

"Sir! Are you ok?" Nightwing asked.

Nite-Wing's father groaned as his consciousness flickered. "Did that… little shit… escape…?"

"He escaped," Nightwing confirmed.

"Stop… him…" Nite-Wing's father whispered. And with that, blood began to flow out of his temple, and his consciousness faded.

"No… no… sir, hang on. Hang on!" Nightwing pleaded.

Sirens blazed in the distance. Whether they were police sirens or ambulance sirens, Nightwing couldn't tell. But one thing he knew for sure: he had to leave. Reluctantly, he ascended into the skies, perching himself on a rooftop to watch the conclusion of the scene.

-X-

"Are you ok, Dick?" Barbara asked over his phone. Dick had returned to his apartment, shedding his Nightwing suit and returning to normal clothes- or rather, just some pajama pants. He sat alone in his kitchen, without even a light on. The little moonlight that did enter through his kitchen window illuminated the bottle and glass of bourbon that he had poured for himself, yet from which he hadn't taken a drink yet.

Dick closed his eyes.

-X-

_**-Gotham, The Past-**_

_ Dick cried. It was the first time in a long time that he had cried. Since long before his parents were murdered, Dick didn't have a reason to cry. When his parents were killed, he bottled everything inside, and all other emotions were consumed by the fire of wrath. But now… now he cried. He cried for his parents. He cried for the orphans. He cried for himself._

_ The figure consoled the young man. He saw too much of himself reflected in the young man- too much. He needed to help this young man- now, he realized, in more than just helping him find justice for his parents._

_ "It's ok, Dick. It's ok," he said. He simply let Dick cry into him._

_ "I would've… I would've killed that guy…" Dick sobbed._

_ "I know."_

_ "How do you do it? How do you resist killing them? How, Mr. Wayne?"_

_ "A lot of restraint. And a lot of practice."_

_ "… Could you teach me that?"_

_ "I will. But not now."_

_ "Why not?"_

_ "Because now isn't the time for training. Now is the time for grieving."_

_ With renewed sobs, Dick cried into his mentor as his mentor consoled the young man. Alone they sat inside the cave- two orphans alone in a world that robbed them of their lives._

-X-

_**-Dick's Apartment, The Present-**_

"Dick, are you alright?" Barbara repeated.

Dick took the glass of Bourbon and drank it completely.

"Honestly… I don't know. But I'll have to be."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Hey everyone! I am INCREDIBLY sorry that I'm late with this episode. I suffered some technical issues on my end, but that's really no excuse. I'll work hard to release them earlier than I am right now, so I truly apologize. I hope you enjoyed this episode- please feel free to leave me some feedback. And now, I'll leave you with this question: which Danielle Panabaker superhero do you like better- Caitlin Snow, or Layla from **Sky High** (anyone remember that?)_

_Until next week at hopefully 8/7c, stay awesome, everyone!_


	4. Bird's Nest

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**-Gli Amanti, Valentine's Evening-**_

Dick Grayson had been in a lot of troubling times and dangerous scenarios over his life. He's survived the trauma of his parent's murder and the ensuing investigation to bring the mastermind, Tony Zucco, to justice. He's braved countless nights battling the criminal underworld of Gotham with his mentor, the Dark Knight. He's recovered from every conceivable form of injury, some of which were near fatal. And yet, as his life flashed through his eyes at that very moment, he knew that this moment was definitely the most dangerous one of his life.

"Care to explain this situation, Dick?" the redhead to the right of Dick asked, her hands on her navy blue dress.

"Yeah, can you explain this, Dick?" the redhead to the left of Dick added, her arms crossed on her royal purple dress.

"Ahh… yeah… you see… about that…" Dick stumbled, trying to find the right words to get him out alive. He could hear his brother's reaction to such a situation in his mind: _Really, Dick? How'd you get yourself in such a mess?_ Meanwhile, his father would simply be standing there, smirking.

_Man, I'd rather be taking on the League of Assassins than this right now_, he bemoaned.

_**-Gotham, 48 Hours Previously-**_

A red-haired woman walked through the front doors of Shay Enterprises. Dressed modestly, with her hair in a ponytail and bangs that could almost cover her eyes, Cheyenne Freemont informed the desk receptionist that she was a journalist for The Bludhaven Bugle, took a seat in the waiting area, and waited to be called up. After a few minutes, the desk receptionist called out to her, "Mr. Shay will see you now."

Nodding, Cheyenne gathered her things and moved to the elevator, taking it to the top floor. After stepping out of the elevator, she emerged into an ornate corridor, decorated in a very two-tone modern style. The door itself was open, and from within a bit of light entered the corridor. Cheyenne made her way to the door, opening it and saying, "Mr. Shay?"

"Please, take a seat," a male voice within the office curtly said. Cheyenne did so, occupying a seat in front of his mahogany desk. Looking around, she saw that the office was sparse, but stylish with what did decorate the room, being of a similar ilk as the corridor outside. A man stood facing the window, dressed in a grey business suit. Turning around, she saw that the rumors were true: Mr. Shay was, indeed, a handsome figure.

"So this is just an interview for the newspaper," Cheyenne began, taking out her notepad from her carrier bag's pocket. "I just have a couple of questions."

Mr. Shay walked from his place by the window and stood directly in front of her, leaning slightly on his desk. "Ask away, Ms…?"

"Freemont," Cheyenne answered. "Once again, thank you for agreeing to this interview- the Bludhaven Bugle truly appreciates it. I figured it might be easier if we started with some casual questions before we get into the nitty-gritty of running one of the hottest new start-ups in the United States. So let's start with this: Do you have any interests outside of work?"

Before answering, Mr. Shay moved to the chair beside Cheyenne, taking a seat and staring at her with his hypnotic eyes. "What about you? I'd like to know more about you," he inquired with his silky voice.

"There's really not much to know about me. I'm just the reporter for the paper- I mean look at me," Cheyenne responded, deflecting his question.

Still, Mr. Shay continued to stare at her. "I am."

Feeling shivers go down her spine, she tried to get back to the interview. The process had lasted for another five minutes, with Cheyenne trying to steer the conversation back to the simple question, and Mr. Shay intimidatingly flirting with her. In the end, she stood up, apologized for coming, and then subsequently marched off. Taking out her phone, she dialed a number and pressed it to her ear as the elevator doors closed.

"Perry, what kind of assignment have you given me?" Cheyenne asked, annoyed.

"What do you mean? How'd it go?" the man on the other line asked.

"I'm not going to interview him."

"What? Why not? He's the mastermind behind one of the-"

"I don't care, Perry. I'm getting bad vibes from this guy."

"Alright, alright. I'll send someone else over. See me when you get back in town- I'll have your next assignment for you when you get back."

Cheyenne ended the call, returned the phone to her pocket, and walked out of the elevator. No sooner had she exited the building, however, that she accidentally bumped into a man with short, stylish hair, dressed in a bomber jacket and jeans.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man apologized.

"No, don't be," she replied. She continued on her way, deciding that she first should return to her hotel room and figure out what to do. It had been a couple of blocks walk, but soon she arrived at the hotel. As she walked into the lobby, however, she realized a sudden fact- the man she bumped into had been walking right next to her the entire time, and was now making his way to the front desk.

"How awkward…" Cheyenne murmured to herself. She proceeded directly to the elevator, pressing a button and waiting for the doors to close. Right before they did, however, the man from before walked into the elevator as well, pressing a different button as the doors began to close once more.

"Funny seeing you here, huh?" the man remarked with a friendly tone. He had a kind smile and a handsome face.

"Yeah," Cheyenne chuckled. "I didn't realize you were walking here too."

"Well, most strangers never really bother to say hi or apologize, but whatever. I'm Dick, by the way- well, technically Richard Grayson, but I prefer to be called Dick," the man said, introducing himself.

"I'm Cheyenne Freemont," Cheyenne responded, shaking the hand that Dick had extended.

"So, what brings you to Gotham?" Dick inquired. "You can't be from the city if you're staying at a hotel," he observed.

"Oh, it was supposed to be an interview," she explained. "I'm actually a reporter for the Bludhaven Bugle, but my interview didn't really pan out."

"You're from Bludhaven? That's funny- I'm actually from Bludhaven too," Dick remarked. "Though I'm originally from here."

"That's nice- what brings you back?"

Dick was silent for a moment, before saying, "Uh… just taking a break from my job."

"Yeah, I understand that," Cheyenne agreed. "Hey, if you're originally from here… would you happen to know some of the spots around here?"

"Yeah, I still know 'em," Dick confirmed.

"I… look, I know we just met and everything, but you seem like a pretty nice guy."

"I would hope so- I try to be friendly."

"Yeah," Cheyenne chuckled. "Anyway, I've never been to Gotham before, so would you mind showing me around?"

"Of course," Dick grinned. "Meet you downstairs in an hour?"

Cheyenne agreed, and the two got off on their respective floors. Changing out of her interview suit and into more casual clothes, Cheyenne headed for the lobby at the appropriate time, meeting Dick who was still dressed in the clothes she had seen him in. They walked out of the hotel together, and Dick began showing her around the city.

To all logic, this was a stupid idea. Dick was really nothing but a stranger to Cheyenne, but he really did seem like nothing but a nice guy. Besides, if he _did_ have any dirty or nasty thoughts, Cheyenne had a secret that would made sure he wouldn't be a problem for her. Luckily, he didn't seem like he had any untoward thoughts, and the two Bludhavenites had a lovely time touring the city.

Over a round of drinks at a local bar that Dick said he used to frequent, Cheyenne made a bold move, asking Dick to a date on Saturday. Responding that he had nothing better to do, he accepted her proposal, and they agreed to meet at the fancy _Gli Amanti_ restaurant since, as Cheyenne reasoned, "Everyone loves Italian, right?" Dick laughed at the reasoning, and the two walked back to the hotel together.

Yeah, Cheyenne was definitely getting some good vibes from this guy. Or at least, she hoped she was getting some good vibes.

-X-

_**-Gotham University, 24 hours before Valentine's Day-**_

The minute hand struck the twelve, and with that the class that Barbara Gordon was teaching suddenly scrambled to pack their books. Barbara, herself, was relieved that class was over, and quickly reiterated what the homework for the weekend was before the class disbanded, quickly shuffling out of the room.

Removing the glasses from her face, the redhead with the flowing hair began packing her own things when a knock on the door preceded the voice of someone she knew quite well, "I'm looking for Professor Gordon- would you happen to know where I could find her?"

"I probably could, Dick," she grinned in response. Turning around to face her longtime friend, she gave him an affectionate hug. "What brings you to town, Dick?"

"I just needed some time off the job," Dick explained. "After the business with Tad… I needed a breather."

"I understand," Barbara nodded.

"How about you, Babs? College kids treating you well?"

"Honestly, between Gotham's criminal underworld and Gotham's university students… I'd rather face the criminal underworld," she laughed. "They're less complicated."

"So you still go out then?"

"Only if I need to. I'm busy enough being the brain for everyone and doing this day job- I could use some sleep too, Grayson."

"Fair enough. Hey, are you free?"

A wry smile presented itself on her face. "Why, Dick? Actually asking me out on a date?"

"I'm on vacation, Barb- I could use a good time with a friend," he answered.

"What do you mean by 'good time', Grayson?" she winked.

Suddenly cognizant of what exactly had escaped his mouth, Dick chuckled, slightly flustered. "Ah… well… y'know-"

"If you want that kind of 'good time', you better at least buy me dinner first, former Boy Wonder," Barbara teased, giggling slightly.

Regaining composure, Dick responded, "How about on Valentine's Day, then?"

"Huh?" Barbara asked, stunned by his proposal.

"Would you like to go on a date with me on Valentine's Day?" Dick repeated.

Now it was Barbara's turn to blush. "Uhh… umm…"

Dick's heart suddenly began to pump a little bit faster the longer she took to answer his question. Finally, Barbara said, "Yeah, I'd love that."

"Great," Dick answered, breathing a sigh of relief. There was a slightly awkward silence for another few minutes, before Dick asked, "So… are you free later?"

"Unfortunately, no…" Barbara stammered. "I've got so many papers to grade, and there are some cases that need solving… but I will definitely see you on Valentine's. Where… um… where would you like to go?"

"How about _Gli Amanti_?" Dick suggested, his voice petering out towards the end.

"Yeah, sure," Barbara smiled. "Everyone loves Italian, right?"

"Yeah," Dick smiled back. "Anyway… I guess I'll see you then." Awkwardly making his retreat, Dick shuffled out of the door, leaving Barbara to giggle as he did so.

-X-

"Hey Tim, how've you been?" Dick asked into his phone. Leaning back on a chair in his hotel room, he put his feet on the nearby bed as he stretched out his legs.

"I've been good, Dick," Tim Drake responded. "You finally finding some free time?"

"Only for right now- I'm taking a vacation from Bludhaven for a few days."

"Can vigilantes take vacation days?" Tim asked, laughing. "What would Bruce say?"

"He won't say anything, because you're not telling him anything," Dick responded. "Still, I am in Gotham for the weekend."

"Sweet! Hey, will you be busy tomorrow?"

"Sorry bro, but I'll be busy. I've got a date with a reporter from Bludhaven- 'Cheyenne Freemont'," Dick explained. "I'll be busy on Valentine's Day as well- I've got a date with Barbara."

"For real? You actually asked Barbara out?" Tim asked, incredulous. Then, quickly following his statement, he said, "Wait a second… you have a date with Barbara on Valentine's?"

"Yeah," Dick answered, now a bit defensive.

"And you have a date with this Cheyenne Freemont on Saturday- aka tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh. Why?"

"Dick… tomorrow is Valentine's Day."

Silence. "No, you're kidding me. Valentine's is on Friday this year."

"No bro- that was last year. Besides, today is Friday!"

_Today is Friday…_ Dick thought to himself. Suddenly realizing the messy situation he had gotten himself in, Dick nearly dropped his phone. "Oh no."

"Oh yeah, bro," Tim began to tease.

"No no no no. Cheyenne's a nice woman, and Barbara's… well, she's Barb. Oh no no no no no…"

"Way to go, bro," Tim added, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Hey, shut up man! Great! This is just great! What am I supposed to do now? What if Cheyenne finds out- worse; what if Barbara finds out?"

"'What if?' Don't you mean 'when'?"

"Shit, you're right… Tim, help me out here!"

"Huh, me? Why me?"

"You were always the smart one, Tim!"

"Yeah, but you're pretty smart yourself, Dick."

"Not as smart as you! Come on, Tim, please?"

Tim was silent for a few moments as, to help out his big brother, he began formulating a plan. "Hmm… where are these dates happening?"

"Cheyenne asked me to _Gli Amanti_, and I asked Barbara out to… _Gli Amanti_," Dick moaned, burying his face in his left hand.

"Oh man… Dick, you really fucked up this time, huh?" Tim laughed.

"We can talk about that later. Anyway, any ideas?"

"Well… I could ask Barbara to help me patrol for a few hours- that ought to at least delay your date with her for a while. Maybe you could quickly get through your date with Cheyenne and then transition to your date with Barbara?"

"I guess… I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

"Not really, Dick."

Dick ran the plan through his mind, then sighed before burying his face in his hand again. "Toaster strudel," he moaned.

-X-

_**-Gli Amanti, Valentine's Day-**_

On the verge of sweating buckets but keeping his focus razor sharp, as if he were about to bust a drug cartel with Bruce, Barbara, and Tim, Dick Grayson stood outside of the restaurant in his suit, waiting impatiently for Cheyenne to appear. Finally she appeared in a stunning navy blue dress that caught Dick's breath. After greeting her and complimenting her on her appearance, Dick held the door open for his date, and the two were quickly seated.

The following few hours passed by torturously slow for the Bird of Bludhaven. He enjoyed Cheyenne's company- in fact, if it weren't for the second date on his itinerary, he'd probably be enjoying his date even more. Cheyenne was a kind and fun individual, and Dick didn't find many of those kinds of people turning up in Bludhaven. He intended on asking her on a second date, based on his current one- though definitely making sure he didn't schedule it on the same day as another date.

After they had finished their meal, Cheyenne excused herself to use the restroom. After she had walked away, Dick began wondering how long Tim could keep Barbara out on patrol when, walking through the door, was Barbara herself, dressed in a royal purple dress that took Dick's breath away.

"H-hi, Dick," Barbara greeted him, blushing.

"H-hi, Barb," Dick responded, stunned.

"W-well, don't just sit there! Say something!" Barbara said.

Honestly, Dick didn't know what to say- his brain was momentarily arrested. As he was searching for words to speak, however, a voice from behind him said, "Yeah, why don't you say something?"

Cheyenne had returned from the restroom, and had quickly sized up the situation. She walked to Dick's right and, her fire red hair falling down her left shoulder, she put a hand on her dress. "Care to explain this situation, Dick?"

Barbara had also quickly sized up the situation and turned to Dick with a hurt expression. "Yeah, can you explain this, Dick?" she asked. She crossed her arms over her dress as her scarlet red hair fell down both of her shoulders, framing her face.

"Ahh… yeah… you see… about that…" Dick stumbled, trying to find the right words to get him out alive. He could hear his brother's reaction to such a situation in his mind: _Really, Dick? How'd you get yourself in such a mess?_ Meanwhile, his father would simply be standing there, smirking.

As he thought of a way out, he caught something… suspicious. Normally, when two beautiful women in gorgeous dresses are confronting a handsome idiot, everyone in the immediate vicinity would turn to look at the juicy scene. But that was exactly what was suspicious: there _was_ no one in the immediate vicinity. There was no one in the restaurant at all- neither customer nor staff.

His mind suddenly caught on the quandary, Dick was about to alert his dates of this when a smoke suddenly came rushing into the room. The gas quickly covered the whole room, and the three began coughing and retching. Before long, Cheyenne was knocked unconscious.

_W-what is this!?_ Dick thought to himself. Looking to Barbara, she nodded in understanding of what was happening. The two of them rushed to the doors to try and open it, but found that the doors were locked shut.

Without opening his mouth, Dick gestured his head at the windows. Barbara nodded and they each grabbed a chair to try and break a window open, but by now the gas was beginning to affect their bodies. Dick felt sluggish… sleepy…

Barbara dropped to the floor next to Dick. Finally, the Bird of Bludhaven himself fell, unconscious.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Hey everyone! BKA37 here. With Valentine's Day coming up pretty soon, I figured "Why not have a Valentine's Day special?" And since we could use a break from the heaviness of last week's episode, I thought "Let's go with something funny." So I hope you had at least a good chuckle from this week's episode. Don't worry if you missed the action- they'll be back next week. Now, I've gotta ask: Who do you like with Dick? Are you Team Barbara, Team Cheyenne, or perhaps someone else (Like Team Kory)? I'm only asking because it's Valentine's soon. XD Anyway, until next week, stay awesome everyone!_

**_UPDATE:_** _Hey everyone. I'm really sorry about this, but due to some unexpected circumstances affecting me in my real life, I will not be able to release Episode 5 today, Thursday, February 19. I will, however, make up for it with two episodes next Thursday, February 26, so expect Episodes 5 and 6 next week. Once again, I'm really sorry about this. Until next week, tell me: What do you think of Slade from Cartoon Network's "Teen Titans"? ;)_


	5. Down the Rabbit Hole

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**-Unknown-**_

"Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?"

Dick struggled to regain his consciousness. In fact, Dick just struggled- he struggled to move, to recollect what exactly had happened, to observe his surroundings. He could see that he was in a dark room, and he could feel his hands bound behind his back. Other than that, he couldn't decipher anything else.

"Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?" a voice repeated. Slowly, Dick began moving his neck this way and that, trying to locate the source of the voice.

"W…who…are…you…?" Dick hoarsely whispered.

"You'll know soon," the voice promised. "Have fun, Dr. Tetch."

Dick struggled to regain consciousness. But eventually, he could not fight the overwhelming feeling- the fatigue, the vertigo, the urge to just sleep…

-X-

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

When Dick opened his eyes, he was struck at first by how bright everything was. It was like he had temporary blindness from carbonite sickness- then again, he wondered how many people would understand what that meant. Regardless, in time, he found that everything had gone from a big light blur to shapes and colors. Outlines of objects, details that presented themselves. Before long- or perhaps it had been a long time?- Dick found that he was dressed in a dark jacket and jeans, and was staring out at a park.

"Where… where am I…?" Dick wondered to himself. Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind- an image of a redhead whom he knew well. "Barbara!" he exclaimed. Though still slightly disoriented, Dick began pacing back and forth, trying to remember what exactly had happened to him.

"I… I was on… a date… Barbara had shown up… there was someone else… Ch-ch-Cheyenne… Pepper? No, Freemont… And then… and then…"

Dick clutched his head. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't materialize in his mind what had happened at that critical moment- or so it felt like it was a critical moment. More importantly, he thought that he better search for the other two women- Barbara and Cheyenne? Yeah, Cheyenne. Barbara and Cheyenne. Could they be in danger?

Stopping his pacing, Dick began moving forward, trying to find his way out of the park. After a few minutes, he had stumbled upon the park entrance which, on a nearby bulletin board, held a poster. For some odd reason, he couldn't read the garbled words on the poster, but the image itself was clear as crystal: three acrobats soaring through the sky,. Two parents and their child.

The Flying Graysons.

"Wait… this… this can't be…" Dick muttered to himself. "They… they died years ago. And I'm me! I've grown up! And yet- and yet it looks like they're about to perform! What's going on!?"

As Dick was trying to make sense of what was happening, a man came up behind him. "Are you going to watch The Flying Graysons?" he asked innocently. "Haly's Circus stopped by a few days ago and they're set to perform tonight. I hear they're quite the spectacle!"

"H-Haly's Circus?" Dick asked.

"Yeah," the man confirmed. "Are you from around here? If not, I can give you directions."

"Where… where are we?"

"What kind of question is that? We're in Gotham Park."

"And… and what date is it?"

"Son, you're starting to sound like someone who has amnesia. It's-"

_**-Gotham, The Past-**_

Dick Grayson stared at the large, multi-striped tent that lay in front of him. It was _the_ big top- the one where, as a child, he and his parents would perform their acrobatic stunts. Soaring through the air, the Flying Graysons delighted all. And yet… it seemed they were still delighting people, even though to Dick, this was supposed to be nothing more than a memory.

"Am I… am I really in the past?" Dick wondered. Stranger things _have_ happened, and he knew that firsthand, but still, the concept of it being time travel… could that really be it?

And, supposing for even an instant, that it was time travel, that Dick had indeed gone back to the past… who put him there? Why? And perhaps, most pressing of all: what should he do?

Of course, Dick wasn't stupid. Studying under Bruce, he had the finest education available to him. He studied theoretical physics when other kids studied for their driver's license exam. Temporal quandaries flipped through his mind, and he knew what he ought to do: preserve the timeline. His timeline.

And yet… and yet, he knew what would happen tonight. He knew that Tony Zucco would come for his parents. Would cause them to die a horrific death. To forever scar his life, leave a weight on his heart that he'd never be able to lift. Could he really stand by and watch his own parents die once more?

No. He wouldn't let that happen. Damn his timeline. His mind was made up- The Flying Graysons would continue to soar.

Unfortunately for him, there was nothing he could really do until that evening, when the performance would begin under the big top's bright lights. He began wondering what he would do to pass the time, when a woman's voice asked, "Hey there, Pretty Boy."

Turning around, Dick found, walking up to him, a red head with flowing hair and glasses. For some reason Dick couldn't place, she seemed familiar. Really familiar…

"Hi," she greeted him.

"H-hi," Dick stammered, though he didn't know why.

"Are you going to watch the show later?" she asked.

"The show?" Dick asked. "Oh, The Flying Graysons? Yeah, I'm watching them later. And you?"

"Same here, though it seems I arrived here with a bit more time to kill than I thought."

"You're from out of town?"

"Kind of, yeah. Hmm… Are you a bad man, pretty boy?"

"I would hope not."

"Then, since we're both going to watch the show later, how about we keep each other company until then?" she offered.

Dick considered the offer for a few moments. He knew that he had more important things to take care of- find out what happened to Barbara and Cheyenne, figure out how he got back to the past, stop his parents from dying- but then again, what could he really do until later that night?

"Alright, you're on," Dick smiled. "And by the way, that's Mr. Pretty Boy to you."

Chuckling, the woman took the arm that Dick offered. As they began walking away from the tent and towards the rest of the circus grounds, she asked him, "Alright Mr. Pretty Boy, what's your actual name?"

"Call me Dick," he answered.

"Huh, really?" she smirked. "Not the best nickname to have, you know. Are you secretly some sort of jackass?"

"No, no," Dick reassured her. "My name's actually Richard, but everyone calls me Dick."

"I wonder why?" she teased.

"Well, do I look like a dick?"

She took a step forward to look at Dick and take him in. After examining him with a puzzled expression, she said, "You don't seem like a dick, but you do seem like a Dick."

"You're sounding a bit like Shakespeare with all those puns, Ms…?"

"Beddoes. I'm Amy Beddoes," Amy answered, introducing herself.

Having acquainted themselves with each other, the two began to wander about the circus grounds, before heading into a nearby district of Gotham. They browsed stores, ate at diners, and just continued to keep each other company. Dick could feel some sort of natural chemistry between the two of them, which really struck him; though he was the cool charmer to the outside world, he knew that he had more than his fair share of problems, a side of him his father knew too well.

However, there was still just… something! Something about this woman- Amy Beddoes. She was just as charming as Dick, and kept pace with him at whatever topic they were at. Who could this Amy Beddoes really be?

Before long, darkness had begun to descend upon Gotham, and the lights of Haly's Circus began to turn on. Noticing that it was nearly time, Dick and Amy began heading back to the big top. As they were on their way, however, a sudden voice pierced Dick's head- a confident voice, slightly alien and yet slightly familiar.

_Dick! You better not be dead, Dick!_ it urged.

_Why… why does that sound so familiar?_ Dick wondered. _I know that voice…_

_Dick, you've got to w-_

"Hey!" Amy commented, snapping some fingers in front of Dick's face.

"Huh?" he automatically commented.

"We're here," she said, gesturing at the big top's entrance. Surprised, as he didn't remember the entire walk to Haly's Circus being so short, Dick took a moment to take it all in.

"But wait a second, weren't we…?"

"You must've dazed off or something. C'mon, let's go in."

Nodding, though still slightly puzzled, Dick followed Amy into the tent.

A weird nostalgia struck Dick as he took his seat and observed the show. He still had clear recollections of the circus from his day as a performer; however, while he remembered the experiences as a _performer_, seeing them as an _observer_ was a completely different experience. The ins, outs, and behind the scenes of the performing cast presented themselves to Dick's memory, and yet seeing what the audience saw- the spectacle instead of the machine- was a foreign wonder to the former boy wonder.

The night progressed in the routine fashion that Dick expected- it was all as he remembered it was the night of his parents' deaths. The crowd oohed when he expected them to ooh, and aahed when he expected them to aah. Soon, the time was rapidly arriving when the culprit would have tampered with the ropes his parents would be using. Focusing his mind, he made an excuse to leave to Amy and shuffled his way out of his seat.

Once he had gotten out of his section of seats, Dick slipped out of the tent's public entrance, returning to the outside. The moon hung in the night, a bright yet dark omen of things to come. Again, Dick questioned whether what he was doing was right: ought he really jeopardize the future for such a selfish wish? However, he dismissed the thought- he was powerless before, but now… now, he had the power and the ability to save his parents. It shouldn't even have to be a question.

Taking advantage of the lack of other people wandering about the grounds, Dick made use of the free reign given to him to infiltrate the behind the scenes of the performance. He clung to the shadows, knowing that though there weren't likely any people around to spot him, he still needed every ounce of surprise he could muster.

Dick was nearing the performer's tent when a voice pierced his skull once more. This voice, however, seemed more sinister than the previous voice: whereas the first voice conveyed concern, this voice was cold- startlingly cold.

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

Dick clutched his head as the question incessantly repeated itself, growing louder and louder. There was no escape from the question- it was as if a recorder had been placed inside his head with a vuvuzela-jackhammer.

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

Falling to the ground, Dick closed his eyes and tore at his hair.

_Get out of my head… GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_

_ Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

_ STOP IT! STOP IT!_

_ Dick, you've got to calm down!_ a new voice cautioned. It was neither the first voice, nor the second. It was-

Dick opened his eyes and saw, standing in front of him, Amy Beddoes.

"A-amy…?" Dick stammered. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I can ask you the same thing, Boy Wonder," she smirked.

"Boy Wonder?" Suddenly, it struck Dick: the reason _why_ Amy Beddoes seemed so familiar to him. Why there was such great chemistry between them, as if they had known each other for a long time. It's because they had. "B-Barbara?" Dick asked Amy.

"Kind of," she replied. "I'm really more of a silhouette of the real Barbara Gordon. An object of your imagination."

"Object of my… imagination? But then, does that mean…?"

"Looks like you're piecing it together, you Renegade," she smiled.

"We're not in the past, are we?" Dick stated. "We're-"

_**-Gotham? The Past?-**_

"You've got it, Dick. We're in your subconscious."

_**-Dick's Subconscious-**_

"It's all beginning to make sense. Why I couldn't read any text earlier… how I went from walking with you to in front of the big top so quickly… and all these damn voices in my head…!"

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"Who is this?" Dick asked Amy. "This voice in my head?"

"The first one or the second one?" Amy countered.

"Both, I guess."

"That first one sounds awfully familiar, doesn't she, Dick?" Amy hinted, teasing him.

"She? Hmm…" It took Dick a few moments, but finally he began to recognize the first voice. "Wait a second… is that… Cheyenne?"

"It is," Amy congratulated, giving him a thumbs up. "It is, indeed, Cheyenne Pepper."

"H-h-hey! I didn't mean that! I was disoriented!" Dick answered defensively. "But how can she reach me? Unless-"'

"I'm pretty sure you're gonna find out sooner or later, Dick," Amy assured him.

"And what about the second voice? The one that keeps asking me the same question over and over again?"

"That's… a bit more complicated," Amy answered sadly. "You see, I don't know who it is either. You haven't met this person yet, yet somehow their question resonates in your mind, so they must have asked you this question at some point."

"I haven't met them yet, but the question still resonates…? Wait a second… Before I lost consciousness and woke up at the park, there was a voice… There was a voice…!"

Sudden images began to flash through Dick's mind- the date that went wrong, the desperate struggle to escape, being dragged into a van, and then finally a dark room. A dark room, being strapped into some device, and then a cool, calm voice-

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"I… I… Whoever he is, that's the one who knocked us out," Dick deduced. "I've gotta wake up and warn the others."

"I'd love to say that that's all you've got to struggle with… but it's not. That voice asked the question once, and yet it's resonating with your subconscious. Why is that, Dick?"

"Does it matter? I've got to help Barbara and-"

Suddenly Amy inches away from Dick's face. "It DOES matter, Dick. You're no help to anyone if you can't answer this: Why?"

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"Why does it matter, Dick?"

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"Answer me, Dick, why does it matter?"

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"Why do you fight, Dick?"

Dick shut his eyes and pleaded, "Please… stop…" Weakly, he opened them again, and to his horror, saw that he was on top of a spire, watching his parents on a high wire.

"No… No!" Dick wanted to yell out, to reach out his hand and grab them, but it was useless. He couldn't move his body, and he was forced to watch as his parents' wire snapped, and they fell in slow motion-

The scene changed once more. Now Dick was on top of a man, a knife in his hands. This man's life was in _his_ hands. The blade was raised high in the air, and all he had to do was bring the blade down swiftly, to embed it in the fleshy throat of the villain beneath him, to get his revenge. His future, all decided by the edge of a knife. He would-

He was now observing Tad. The misguided youth was on top of his father, lowering the crowbar in his hand. Then, all of a sudden, he raised the crowbar once more. Dick tried to extend his hand to stop Tad, but a Wing-Ding flew forth instead, soaring through the air and placing itself in his arm as the crowbar still made contact with his father's skull.

_Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_

"I fight… I fight so that others don't have to experience what I did," Dick admitted to Amy. "There isn't a single day that goes by where my parents' deaths haven't weighed on my heart. That's why I put away the bad guys- so that they don't have to leave the world one more dark, sad, lonely knight."

Dick stood up then as his subconscious began to grow brighter and brighter, obscuring everything around him.

"Is that the answer you wanted?" Dick asked Amy.

"I don't know. Is it the answer you wanted?" Amy countered.

"Huh. I guess," Dick answered, shrugging his shoulders. "This is a really weird experience, y'know?"

"How so?"

"I guess this is a very _literal_ meeting with my subconscious, about an issue that I never even expected to have."

"Well, you can run away from your problems, former Boy Wonder, but you can't run away forever. Sooner or later, you have to grow up and face them."

"I know. So… what now?"

Amy looked at Dick with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean how do I get out of here and save the others?"

"I don't know," Amy responded with a shrug.

"Great. Juuuuust greeeeeat," Dick said.

-X-

A man burst into the room that contained the pod where Dick Grayson was being kept. "Dr. Tetch!" the grunt reported. "We've got some compa-ARGH!"

All of a sudden, the grunt fell forward into the room, writhing in pain. Embedded in his back was a Red Arrow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Hey everyone! BKA37 here! First off, I'm gonna rattle off my list of apologies. I'd like to apologize for not having posted last week, as well as for only posting Episode 5 this week. If I had more time, I would write more and post, but unfortunately the last two weeks have kept me terribly busy. It's no excuse, and so I am terribly sorry. Next off, Episode 6 will be coming next week, I promise. Now, I do need your help with a question: I anticipate on having more time next week to write, and so I'll be posting not only Episode 6 of Nightwing, but also a crossover special. In my original fiction on FictionPress, I'm a mystery writer, and so I'd like to ask you: Which character would you like to see crossover from my original fiction- my detective, John "Wolfe" San Miguel, or my phantom thief, known as "The Shadow"? Finally, I'd like to plot another crossover later this season- which superhero would you like to see join forces with Nightwing and co.?_

_A long author's note this week, but I've got some questions for y'all. Until next week, I hope you enjoyed "Down the Rabbit Hole"! Get hyped- Arsenal's back next week!_


	6. Break Out!

**My name is Dick Grayson. Ever since I was young, I made a vow to uphold justice, and lived under the shadow of a dark knight. But the dark knight has his city, and I needed my own. It was time I moved out of the dark knight's shadow, and step up. This is my city. My story. And now, it's time for me to rise.**

_**-Unknown-**_

The grunt fell forward into the room, writhing in pain. Embedded in his back was a red arrow.

The man that the grunt was trying to warn bemoaned, "Oh great, another one."

Stepping into the room was a man clad in red leather, with laces lacing their way down his suit. Underneath the red hood was a mask of similar color, where eyes of focused fury surveyed the surroundings before arresting their attention on the man behind a metallic panel. This second man was garbed in the lab coat of a scientist, but had the unusual quirk of wearing a tattered top hat.

With a menacing voice, the man in red raised a bow, aiming it directly at the scientist and announcing, "Jervis Tetch! You have failed this city!"

"Please, boy!" Dr. Tetch scoffed. "Go back to Starling, where you belong!" With surprising speed, Dr. Tetch pulled out a revolver and let loose a volley of shots, forcing the man in red to dodge to the side. Though a mere side distraction, it was enough to allow for the mad scientist to escape.

"Damn," the red clad man swore to himself. He would normally have begun pursuit, but he had other matters to deal with. Turning around, he saw, against a far wall, a pod emitting a greenish glow. Within this pod was a man wearing a suit, with a face that looked flushed with pain. "What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Dick," the man chuckled. He thought at first of simply firing arrows into the pod, but then thought better of it when he realized he didn't know what that would do to the man inside. Thus, the man moved to behind the panel, examining the buttons for a way to disengage the pod.

Of course, it could _never_ be as simple as an off button- why would complicated machines _ever_ just have an off button? The man groaned and was about to mess with some levers and knobs when the sound of rushing footsteps grabbed the man's attention. Out of instinct, he drew his bow, and a wise call was made when a platoon of guards rushed through the door, screaming, "Get the twerp!"

The man was able to let loose an arrow, knocking out one of the guards before being ganged up on by the onslaught of bodies. Using the martial arts he was taught, the man engaged in close combat, using his bow when he could, but relying on unnecessary flips and acrobatic parkour to maneuver his way around the area. He danced amongst the thugs, dealing blows and knocking heads. However, though he was clearly a more adept fighter than the guards, there was seemingly no end to them, and the man was quickly running out of energy.

The man began thinking that he might have to make a quick escape and come back for his compatriot later, when a sudden force slammed everyone to a wall. The man was taken by surprise- indeed, he couldn't even _see_ the force, though he sure as hell could _feel_ it. As everyone grunted and groaned, the man looked for the source of the force. And sure enough, the source came rushing in.

The first thing the man could see was that the slender, outreached hand of the force. Next came the red hair, then the navy blue dress, and then finally the fiery expression of determination. Clearly, this woman was not someone whom one would want to mess with. And yet, the man was perplexed at how exactly she was keeping everyone pressed up against the wall.

Looking around, the woman first noticed the man in the pod, then the man in red, who was different from the uniformed thugs around him. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"It'd be nice if you could answer that question first," the man responded.

"Who's got who pressed up against a wall?" she sassily retaliated.

"Fair enough. I'm Arsenal," he answered. "And you?"

"Cheyenne."

"Ok, Cheyenne. Could you please let me down? I'm not sure how you're doing what you're doing, but could you please let me down?"

"After you tell me what you're doing down here, weirdo."

"Says the Jedi?"

"Careful, before I turn Sith and choke you."

Arsenal knew he had no choice- he was completely at Cheyenne's mercy. If he really wanted to get out of his current predicament, he'd have to play along. "Alright, alright. Well, I'm one of the vigilantes patrolling Starling City at night. I was out on patrol when I saw something suspicious happening in this warehouse. I decided to investigate, and found this place. Happy?"

"That's funny- we're in Gotham," Cheyenne responded.

"Gotham? No, this is definitely Starling City. I think I'd know my own city."

"But that's… that's not possible. I was out on a date with _this_ jerk-" here she pointed at the man in the pod, "when I was knocked out. Back then, it was Valentine's Day, and we were in _Gli Amanti_ in Gotham."

"Well, that's all good for you, but you're not in Gotham anymore. And today isn't Valentine's Day- it's been weeks since then," he explained.

Cheyenne was silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in. Then, seemingly accepting the situation, she nodded her head. As she did so, Arsenal felt the force that was propelling him against the wall vanish, and he slid to the floor with a thud.

"Thanks," Arsenal said, getting up.

"Yeah," Cheyenne said, giving feedback. "Anyway, know how we can get him out of there?"

"Leave that to me," a new voice announced. Cheyenne and Arsenal turned their heads to the entrance, where another woman with red hair, albeit this time in royal purple dress, appeared. Casually striding in, she got to work on the console, pressing this button and pulling that lever.

"And who are you?" Arsenal questioned.

"Barbara," she answered. "I'm the brains behind the masks- 'Oracle.'"

"Oracle? I've never heard of you," Arsenal admitted.

"Huh? Didn't Nightwing tell you…?" Barbara asked, confused.

"No, Dick didn't really tell me much the last time we met."

"Yeah, Dick has a way of keeping secrets," Barbara smiled.

"Yeah, that dick sure does have a way of keeping secrets," Cheyenne pouted.

Looking at the two beautiful women in front of him- Cheyenne, somehow keeping the other thugs at bay; Barbara, working brilliance that would impress Felicity- Arsenal could only smile and say, "Geez, how did Dick get the two of you to go on a date with him?"

The two women ignored his question, instead electing to continue their current tasks. Eventually, the pod began to disengage, and from within, the man that was kept unconscious slumped forward. Barbara quickly rushed to catch the man, and held him upright with an arm over her shoulder as she waited for him to regain consciousness.

It only took a few moment, but soon the man groggily began shaking his head. "Wha… where am… I…?" he asked.

"You're in my town this time," Arsenal greeted. "Welcome back, Dick."

Dick began to open his eyes. First, he noticed the woman that was holding him upright, and he smiled at seeing Barbara. Giving her a signal, she let go of him, and he began to stand on his own. Then, he noticed Arsenal, and finally Cheyenne, smirking at him as she held an outstretched hand. It was then that Dick noticed the thugs flung against the walls.

"So, a psionic meta…" Dick murmured.

"Seems like it," Barbara confirmed.

"Wait, what? What are you two talking about?" Arsenal asked. "Are you two discussing how exactly she has literal superpowers?"

"Careful with your mouth, hoodie," Cheyenne teased. "I could still fling you to a wall, you know. Maybe this time I'll do it balls first."

"Relax, Cheyenne," Dick began. "Arsenal doesn't know about the bigger meta community. He only knows of the Flash so far."

"Whatever. We still have unfinished business, you know," Cheyenne reminded him.

"Yeah, we'll deal with that when we get to it," Dick assured her. "Though thank you for reaching out to me in my subconscious- it was a big clue."

"Big clue? To what?"

"To the fact that you were a meta, and that I was in a dream… though that was really more of a nightmare," Dick commented, more to himself than to anyone else. Turning his attention to Arsenal, Dick began to explain, "Anyway, Roy, you know that, thanks to S.T.A.R. Labs' Particle Accelerator explosion, the world now has who are termed 'meta-humans', or 'metas' for short? People with seemingly impossible abilities?"

"Like the Flash's super speed?"

"Precisely. Well… the particle accelerator DID create new metas… but there were metas _before_ the explosion. I suspect that Cheyenne here is one of those, a meta from before the explosion, gifted with psionic powers. Basically, the force."

"And why would you make that guess, Mr. Grayson? What if my powers were a result of the particle accelerator accident?" Cheyenne challenged.

"Let's just say we have our sources," Dick cryptically responded, winking at Barbara. "Regardless the more important thing right now is that we get out of here."

"I've already canvassed the rest of this warehouse- everything's clear, though we don't seem to have our equipment," Barbara began.

"That's the former Batgirl for you," Dick smiled at Barbara.

"Expecting anything less, former Boy Wonder?" Barbara smiled back at Dick.

"Urgh, get a room you two," Arsenal bemoaned. "Anyway, I have just the arrows to keep these thugs at bay…" Grabbing his bow and reaching for a few arrows in the quiver behind his back, Arsenal fired several arrows, launching nets that kept the thugs imprisoned. With the thugs now materially stopped, Cheyenne ceased to exert her psionic powers on the thugs, lowering her hands and turning her gaze to Dick.

"You made a _real_ dick move, Dick," Cheyenne suddenly said.

"Yeah, I know," Dick admitted.

"Uh, guys? Is this really the time for this?" Arsenal questioned.

"You know, Dick, if you really already had plans, you could've just said so. I would've understood," Barbara admonished him.

"It's not that, Barb. I did want to go to dinner with you."

"Then why did you say you wanted to go to dinner with me?" Cheyenne asked.

"Seriously, this really isn't the time for this kind of drama," Arsenal pointed out, walking towards the thugs who were still struggling to get free, but were now absorbed in the conversation unfolding in front of them.

"That's not it either, Cheyenne. I think you're an awesome woman- and there's clearly no debating that. I just completely forgot that the date of our date was the same as the date of my date with Barbara…"

"Then, again, why didn't you just talk to me or her, and try to sort things out?" Barbara posed.

"Cuz I thought I could sort things out. I figured, if I played all my cards right, I could get through both dates without hurting either one of you."

"Geez, you've gotta be kidding me. What is this, teen drama?" Arsenal commented.

"I don't know. Don't you think it's kind of sweet, Mr. Red Hood?" the thug next to Arsenal answered, trying to hold back tears. "He was willing to endure being hated by both of them just so that he could treat these two women to a good time and not hurt them!"

"Hey, would you shut up?" Arsenal asked, bonking the thug in the head with his bow, clearly annoyed. He waited for the other three to finish their business, before piping in, "Now that you've got that settled, we need to talk about something."

"What's that, Roy?" Dick asked.

"Count Vertigo. He's back, just like you predicted."

"Damn."

"Y'know, as a thank you, I could use your help in capturing him here, in Starling."

"Can't you and Oliver deal with it yourselves? It's your city, after all."

"Maybe… if Oliver weren't at Nanda Parbat."

"What's he doing…? Whatever. Alright, I'll help out."

"I'll help out too. Would you rather I used my laptop, or my fists?" Barbara offered to Arsenal.

"Barb, you sure you wanna jump in?" Dick asked.

"Dick, don't even think of keeping me back. I'm pissed at this whole chain of events, and I'm ready to go," she answered with a defiant smile.

"Alright, alright… guess that answers that," Dick chuckled.

"I'll be going as soon as we get out of here," Cheyenne said. "I'm sorry, but I'm no superhero. Leave me be to my boring old job."

"Are you sure? We could really use you with your force powers," Arsenal argued.

"Nah… I'd really rather be left alone to my boring old life and my boring old job," Cheyenne smiled.

"Still, Arsenal's right- we could use your help," Dick interjected. He took a step towards her, whispered something into her ear, and then stepped back, before saying, "If you ever change your mind."

Smiling cheekily, Cheyenne responded, "I'll think about it, Dick."

Thus agreed, the four of them ran out of the room, navigating their way through the rest of the warehouse and out of it to emerge onto the Glades.

_**-The Glades-**_

After getting their bearings, Arsenal led the other three back to his house, as per Barbara's request. The streets were mainly deserted, and so the group encountered very few people on their run back. Once they had arrived, Barbara made a quick dash for where Arsenal kept his laptop, while Arsenal gave directions to Cheyenne on how to get out of the city from his house. After she had finished receiving the directions, Cheyenne thanked him and left the house. Meanwhile, Dick was sitting on the couch, hands folded in front of his face, eyes shut in concentration.

Noticing this, Arsenal took a seat on a nearby armchair. "Y'know, you're reminding me a lot of Oliver like that," Arsenal commented.

"Funny- I'd thought I'd resemble my mentor more," Dick responded.

There was a silence for a time, the only sound coming from the Barbara typing on Arsenal's laptop in his bedroom. Then, Arsenal whispered to Dick in a confidential tone, "So, uh, Dick…"

"Yeah?"

"How did you get those two to go out with you?"

"Hey, hey," Dick joked back, nudging him on the arm. "Another time and place, after we catch your Count."

"Fair enough. Although… what were you thinking about?" Arsenal asked. "Oliver never does that unless he's deep in thought about something."

"There's something that's bothering me- something from back when I was held captive," he explained. Dick closed his eyes and once more recalled the calm, calculated voice that had asked that simple question: _Why do you fight, Mr. Grayson?_ It was a voice that he had never heard of before in his life, and yet… and yet he couldn't fight the feeling that it didn't bode well for him.

Dick would've ruminated on it more, however, if not for the timely intervention of Barbara, striding in from Arsenal's bedroom. "Alright, I've found him. How should we tackle this?"

Arsenal stared at her with a dumbfounded look while Dick only smiled. "You've already found him? How? The amount of Vertigo cases have only begun to come back, and even then they're not at notable levels yet. Plus, neither I nor Dick got a good look at him last time."

"Just leave it to the Oracle," Barbara winked. "I've got a positive ID on him. Frustratingly enough, his warehouse was pretty close to where we made our escape. Based on the satellite scans of the area, I don't think he was aware of our little jailbreak, so his entire operations should still be there. However, who knows what will tip him off, so we'll need to be careful.

"By the way, I took the liberty of beginning to run a search for Dr. Jervis Tetch. I got a good look at him as he made his escape- unfortunately, I wasn't able to stop him, as I was breaking out of my own pod at the time. Nonetheless, whenever he pops up again, I'll know."

Turning her attention to Dick then, she said, "Since we don't have any of our gear with us, I'm having a Batdrone deliver our gear here. It should arrive in a few minutes, so…" turning her attention now to Arsenal, she warned, "Unless you want a metal case to leave a hole in your roof, we should probably go and anticipate it."

Nodding, Arsenal rushed out to get to his roof, followed swiftly by the other two vigilantes. The three of them waited a few minutes, passing the time by planning out their assault on the Count's Vertigo-creating operations. Barbara had done diligent work with her reconnaissance of the area, and Dick and Arsenal could almost visualize the entire plan in action. Confident with how they were going to tackle the challenge, they smiled as, appearing as if right on time, a drone dropped a metal case, taking the three of them to catch and preventing minimal damage to Arsenal's roof. They brought it down and into the house, where they opened it up to reveal two suits and _plenty_ of gadgets.

Arsenal, at first wide-eyed, then wolf whistled at the sheer number of gadgets within the metal case. "Jeez, looks like you've got something for everything in there," he commented. "I wouldn't be surprised if you even had a shark repellant or something."

"Don't be stupid- who'd carry that around on a belt or something?" Dick countered. He and Barbara then finished suiting up, with Dick donning his Nightwing domino mask and Barbara pulling the Batgirl mask over her face. Arsenal smiled as he got his bow ready and the three of them, fully suited up and re-stocked in gear, prepared themselves for the job ahead.

Looking at the other two before staring forward with determination, Nightwing proclaimed, "Ready? Let's go."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Hey everyone! BKA37 here. I hope you enjoyed this story- please feel free to leave me some feedback. If you haven't checked it out yet, I'm also releasing a non-canon special titled "Shadows and Silhouettes: Flashing Arrows in the Night." I wonder which heroes are a part of that? Please check that out as well! I hope you'll like it, especially if you love phantom thieves. ;)  
>Now, as for my question for this week: with all the team ups that I have, for some reason, been doing, tell me: who would you like to see appear next? Anyway, until the next episode, have an awesome day!<em>

_UPDATE: I'm going to take this week off as a mini-hiatus. While scripting for this episode, I realized I would need an update on where Arsenal is in Arrow before I continue using him in Nightwing. After all, I wouldn't want to make any contradictions with actual canon... Anyway, I'm sorry about this mini-hiatus. I'll be back with the next episode soon. Until then, here's a second question in addition to the one I asked above: What do you think of Melissa Benoist in her new Supergirl outfit? I rather like it, though I think her boots might be a tad bit too high on her (really? Past the knees?) Just my opinion, of course._


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